His Star is Going the Wrong Way
by Kathy Rose
Summary: Jon's reaction to Hoshi's request for a cabin change in "Fight or Flight." Companion piece to The Stars are Going the Wrong Way.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a companion piece to The Stars Are Going the Wrong Way. Dialogue is from "Fight or Flight" written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga. Beta'd by resenpeace.

* * *

Surely T'Pol could hear the squeaking. What with those pointed ears, she had to have the best hearing of anyone on the ship. But instead of helping, she was towering over him as he, Jonathan Archer, captain of Earth's first warp 5 starship, crawled around on his hands and knees, trying to pinpoint the source of the annoying squeak in his ready room.

"I think it's coming from under the deck plating," he said, "but every time I get close to it, it stops. If I can't isolate it, I'm going to have to tear the whole flooring up."

"That would be unfortunate," T'Pol said. She began her report without missing a beat. "The scans of the sectors ahead indicate little chance of finding inhabited planets." She then proceeded to list all the reasons why they wouldn't find anything worth exploring and the dismal odds of encountering sentient species in the vastness of space.

Jon felt like a jack-in-the-box, jumping up from the deck to sit in his chair, and then back down again as he tried to track the unexplained sound. Between the squeak and his first officer's Vulcan obstinacy, he was about to lose his patience.

"I took exobiology. I know the statistics," he told her testily. He rose to one knee. In a more reasonable tone, he added, "But we're traveling at warp five. There's got to be someone out here."

The door chime sounded, a welcome interruption to a discussion that was going nowhere. "Come in," he called out.

There was another squeak from below the deck plating. He was peering at the floor when his ready room door slid open.

"I'm sorry," came a familiar voice.

Jon looked up to see Hoshi's confused gaze go from him on bended knee to T'Pol next to him. God only knew what his communications officer thought she had walked in on.

T'Pol, apparently realizing the futility of arguing with him when his mind was made up, said, "I'll leave you to your exploring."

As the Vulcan stalked out, Jon hauled himself to his feet and stepped over to his desk. He said the first thing that popped into his head. "Trip tells me Sluggo's not faring too well."

He was referring to the slug-like creature that had been the only thing of interest on a planetoid that _Enterprise _had stopped to explore. It had been a small indulgence on his part to allow Hoshi to bring it on board. He had thought that a pet might make her feel more at home. Unfortunately, the little creature took to space travel even worse than Hoshi did. He hoped she hadn't come to tell him that it had died.

"No, sir, but the doctor's doing the best he can." She took a step closer as he sat down at his desk. "Sir, my quarters are on E deck, starboard section five."

Now that they were alone, Hoshi's formality puzzled him, as did her comment about her quarters. He swiveled in his chair toward his desk, feigning interest in the data padd with T'Pol's report, as he wondered what Hoshi was getting at. Her cabin was a short walk past the mess hall and around the deflector dish compartment from his cabin. He knew full well where it was because he had deliberately had it assigned to her.

True, their personal relationship had started to fizzle about a year ago when she had taken that teaching job in Brazil. They had both been so busy, and he'd had little time to devote to anything but getting _Enterprise_ ready. They had drifted apart, but he had figured it was only temporary. She would be with him again when _Enterprise _launched.

A Klingon landing in the middle of an Iowa cornfield had almost kept that from happening. _Enterprise'_s launch had been moved up so that they could return the alien to his homeworld, but Hoshi hadn't been willing to leave her students ahead of schedule. He had tried to change her mind by saying that he would have Starfleet forcibly recall her to duty; she had pointed out that would result in a reprimand disqualifying her from serving on an active vessel. Luckily for him, the lure of learning the Klingon's language had been sufficient incentive for her to give in. His personal interest in her aside, she really did have a unique talent with languages, and for that alone he was determined she would be a member of his crew. He couldn't deny, however, that he also hoped they might be able to rekindle their flagging romance.

He had never realized how much he had missed her until he'd had to spend day after day on the bridge with her. She had no idea how difficult it had been for him not to stop by her cabin on some pretense or other. At least once a day, he had to remind himself that she would have to make the first move because it could be considered harassment if he, her superior officer, tried to initiate something now that they were serving together. He couldn't jeopardize his command of _Enterprise _for anything, not even her.

His heart sped up as he considered one interpretation of her comment about her quarters. Anticipating that she was going to say she wanted to pick up where they had left off, but mindful that he couldn't openly encourage her because of the fraternization regs, he prompted, "Yes?"

"The stars are going the wrong way, sir," she said.

Her response totally flummoxed him. She was still calling him "sir," despite the fact that they were alone. And what was this about the stars? "Wrong way?" he asked with a frown.

"On both my training tours, I had port-side quarters," she explained. "I'm having trouble sleeping."

Apparently she was still having trouble adjusting to life in space, even though it had been more than two weeks since they had returned Klaang to his homeworld. "Because you're on the-"

"-the wrong side of the ship," she spoke over him in a rush. "Yes, sir. I spoke with Ensign Porter. He said he's willing to switch, with your permission."

There was something about her tone that warned him not to suggest she try sleeping with her head at the foot of her bed, which would be the simplest way to change her perception of the stars' orientation. He recalled that Porter's cabin was on the opposite side of the ship, up two levels on C deck. That was about as far away from him as she could get.

With a sinking feeling, he realizing that her ridiculous story about the stars going in the wrong direction had to be her way of telling him that it was over between them. That certainly explained her formal demeanor. A glance revealed grim determination in the set of her shoulders and her jaw.

"You got it." He forced a smile, pretending there was no deeper meaning to what she had told him. "Can't have my comm officer-" Another squeak gave him a reason to look away, the better to hide his disappointment. "-falling asleep on the bridge."

"I appreciate it, Captain."

The seconds dragged on and still she stood there. He couldn't bring himself to dismiss her. He did love her, although he fleetingly wondered if he had ever told her. Knowing it was too late to say that now, his voice was made harsh by regret as he asked, "Is there anything else, Hoshi?"

She started. "No, sir," she said. "Thank you." She turned and thumbed the button to open the ready room door.

As she stepped out, the infernal squeak sounded once more. Jon dropped from his chair to the deck again, wincing at more than the impact to his knees. Hoshi's name, he now remembered, meant "star." The star that meant the most to him was indeed going the wrong way, and only his duty as a Starfleet captain kept him from following.


End file.
